Masquerade
by Marduk42
Summary: A farewell, but it's only the beginning...shenoun-ai (Kensuke)
1. Prologue: Forging the Mask

Masquerade  
  
***  
  
Prologue: Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow  
  
***  
  
This is the beginning to a story which I hope will be the beginning to...an epic. It (of course) takes place in an AU, since it is primarily Kensuke. I hope that this story grows into its own little world, but for now, it's just this little prologue. Whoo-hoo. Anywa, feedback is appreciated. And, any quotes I might make are most likely taken from Andrew Lloyd Weber's 'Masquerade,' from Andrew Lloyd Weber's "The Phantom of the Opera." And, in addition, the character in this story do not belong to me, as I would take better care of them than their current owners if I had possession of them. I am nowhere near rich enough to be worth a proftiable lawsuit, so don't bother. This story also should contain a romance between two men. If this makes yu feel iffy, feel free to leave. There's a quick way to leave (see that button labeled 'Back'?). Now, proceed.  
  
***  
  
"Dai-chan?" The red-haired boy looked up at his friend.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you think we'll still be friends after college and we find jobs?" Daisuke thought for a moment, something Ken always thought was cute  
'Cute? Why am I thinking that?'  
  
"Of course we will! Ken, we could be miles apart, but I'll always know that my heart is beating in time with yours. So, even if we don't see each other, we'll still be friends." Ken nodded.  
  
"All right." There was a silence, and then he stood up. "Good-bye, Dai-chan." Daisuke stood up, and instead of taking the proffered hand, pulled Ken into a bear hug.  
  
"Here's to seeing you again, Ken-chan." Ken stepped away, and walked for the bus. It would take him to the airport, which would take him to America, where he would attend Harvard Business School. And as he stepped onto the bus, he had an urge to run back, grab Daisuke's hands and  
'Do what? Proclaim my undying love for him? Ha! There's more of a chance of Miyako and I getting together than the two of *us*!'  
tell him how he felt, say he didn't want to go. Ken sighed. No. He was going to school, and there, he could pretend he didn't miss Daisuke. He could pretend his soul wasn't pining for its mate. He could pretend...he didn't love him.  
'I've worn many masks in my life; this is just another one.'  
  
*** 


	2. Wearing the Mask

Masquerade  
  
***  
  
Part 1: Wearing the Mask  
  
***  
  
I'm a little bored from writing only The Emperor and the Slave, so I'll start this earlier than I planned. That's all I have to say, so enjoy.  
  
***  
  
~Masqurade; Paper faces on parade.  
Masquerade; Hide your face and the world will never find you...~  
-Masquerade, from "The Phantom of the Opera"  
  
"Ken-kun, we need to talk." Ken looked up at the woman leaning on the kitchen table. He gestured to the chair next to him, resigning for a very bad conversation. Miyako last used that tone when she thought she might be pregnant, so it had to be serious.  
  
"What is it, Miya-chan?" he asked softly. Miyako winced at the familiar term.  
  
"Ken, we've been married how many years?"  
  
"Five; since I was 21. We both worked until I got my MBA, and then until I started my consulting company." Miyako nodded sadly.  
  
"When you were going to college, Ken, did you ever imagine we'd end up like this?" Ken paused for a moment.  
  
"No. It was the last thing I'd ever think would happen."  
  
"And why, Ken?" Miyako asked quietly. "Is it because we weren't supposed to be together?" Ken felt as if she had slapped him.  
  
"You can't mean-"  
  
"Ken, listen, this is for the best. Neither of us are getting what we need out of our marriage. I-these are the divorce papers. I hope that we can resolve this without resentment." Ken nodded vaguely, looking through the papers. "Ken, please say something," she said, pleading.  
  
"No," Ken said softly, the tears already starting to run down his face. Miyako looked at him sadly, and walked into their room, closing the door behind her.  
  
***  
  
"Ken-san, there's a couple of messages for you. There's something from an irate client,"  
  
"Trash it." The secretary discarded the paper.  
  
"Something from your credit-card company, an offer for a new level or something-"  
  
"Do you have to ask?" Another piece of paper into the wastebasket.  
  
"And, Ken-san, there's a call from the US, guy named Mark something-" Ken snatched the Post-it note from her.  
  
"Mark called? Let's see, what's he...oh. I-Leah, cancel all my appointments for the next two weeks, and book me the next flight to Albany, New York." She nodded, and picked up the phone.  
  
"First, business, or coach?"  
  
"Whichever," was his response. He was heading for the door again. "And call me at home when you've made arrangements." She nodded, listening to the phone.  
  
"And lodgings?" Ken shook his head.  
  
"No, I'll be staying at a friend's house."  
  
***  
  
**Private chat**  
-Bravechibu42 has entered-  
-Holylight25 has entered-  
  
Bravechibu42: So, Hikari, finally come crawling back to me? :)  
Holylight25: Gods, sometimes you're insufferable, Dai-chan! No, that's not it.  
Bravechibu42: So, what is it?  
Holylight25: Well, a rather upset Miyako turned up at my apartment last night. She and Ken finalized their divorce.  
Bravechibu42: I didn't even know they were having problems, Hikari.  
Holylight25: It doesn't surprise me. You never paid much attention to the world around you, and now with your soccer career...but, anyway, apparently, Miyako saw problems, and realized that she never planned to end up as a housewife.  
Bravechibu42: I always thhought she'd end up working with Koushiro on computer stuff; but I liked her better than him.  
Holylight25: Yeah; Koushiro always talked down to us, or used big words we couldn't understand.  
Bravechibu42: Getting back on topic...  
Holylight25: You forcing the conversation to germane topics? I'm shocked, Dai-chan.  
Bravechibu42: Well, I haven't heard from Ken for so long...  
Holylight25: So, now that the love of your life has dumped you, you're looking for other options?  
Bravechibu42: No! Hikari, he was my best friend, and we lost touch, so I want to hear from him again.  
Holylight25: Sure, Daisuke. I don't think he'd like to know he's your second choice.  
Bravechibu42: Hikari, I can't tell when you're joking over the Internet.  
Holylight: Not my problem. Oh; Miyako needs to make a phone call. I'll see you around, Dai-chan.  
-Holylight25 has left-  
  
***  
  
"I can't believe you, Mark." Ken was eating a bowl of pasta, sitting across the kitchen from an elderly man who moved slowly, avoiding agitation.  
  
"I didn't think I was having problems!" he protested, sitting back in a wooden chair. "I'm in good health; I eat well."  
  
"But you're 80 years old, Mark." The old man shrugged, his blue eyes bright.  
  
"I can see just as well as I could thirty years ago, my hands don't have a trace of arthritis-"  
  
"But you've got a very sedentary lifestyle, Mark," Ken protested. Mark stood up, and gestured for Ken to follow him.  
  
"Mr. Ichijouji, I am a very old man. Someday very soon, I will die. And before that, I want to have a nice, long talk with you." Ken managed a smile.  
  
"I've had that conversation twice, and once I was one the delivering end." Mark smiled at the younger man.  
  
"I shouldn't ask who that receiver was?" Ken responded with a laugh.  
  
"Dai-chan."  
  
"Exactly what I wanted to discuss." Mark pushed open the door to a small room filled with clay, metal, paper maché, and plaster of paris.  
  
"Why are we coming down here?" Mark gave him a knowing smile.  
  
"My masks are part of this discussion." He walked over to a plain mask, and picked up the white paper. "Masks are wonderful things, Ken. With them, you can hide your true identity from the world, abandon the personality you always wear. And even better than that, with a mask, you can assume another personality, become someone completely different. You can place a shield over your soul, which can disguise it as well. Isn't that a wonderful thing, Ken?" Ken sighed, and removed the mask from Mark's hand.  
  
"Maybe. But when someone wears a mask too much, they easily find themselves putting on the mask for many occasions, finding excuses, and soon, they find that the mask is a constant factor in their life."  
  
"Yes, Ken. And you forget what belongs beneath the mask, forget who you really are. And that is a great tragedy."   
  
"But masks don't last forever," Ken said quietly. "It is usually someone else, who takes the mask from you and breaks it. And that leaves you searching for the person who made the mask in the first place, to remember who it was that originally put it on." Mark stepped near him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"And then, it is your decision whether you can remember your true self, or if you will be lost in a sea of your own masks. That's why I took up mask-making, Ken."  
  
"Why, exactly?" Ken inquired. Mark chose to ignore him.  
  
"There comes a time in a man's life where he must make a choice. Ken, it is a time when a man must look at himself, and decide. He must decide whether he will die a masked man, or if he will throw aside his masks and show his true face to the world." He pulled a key from a necklace he wore, and smiled sadly. "I made my decision long ago, after I realized what I had lost to my masks. My masks lost me the woman I loved, and so I dedicated my life to making masks for others, to show them the dangers they hold." He looked sadly at the key, and then opened a drawer in a desk tucked in the back of the room.  
  
"I don't see what all this has to do with-"  
  
"Be quiet!" Mark snapped. "I have to get this all out before I kick the bucket. You see, I loved a woman, beautiful, intelligent, and kind, but I lost her to another. I hid myself behind a mask, but...one day, in art class, we were to make paper maché masks. And the mask I made..." He removed a mask from the desk, and showed it to Ken. It was the image of a two-face, one side of the face a young man crying, and the other, a hauntingly beautiful woman smiling faintly into the distance. "I saw my deepest desire embodied in this mask, and saw what I had lost with my masks." He placed the mask lightly back on the desk, and a tear fell from his eye.  
  
"But, Mark, I don't see what this has to do with me," Ken protested.  
  
"You don't? Ken, you've worn many masks in your life; I can see that much. For the past decade, you've worn a mask, and now, all you based it on has broken. Ken, now is the time for your choice. You must abandon your masks forever, or be lost for the rest of your life from your true self." Ken sat down, and was silent for a few minutes.  
  
"There was a man who believed he talked to God, Mark, and according to him, the greatest sin a man could commit would be to be untrue to himself. But Mark, I don't know who I am. The last time something like this happened, I barely survived. Mark, I don't have a baseline to who I really am...Without it, I have to cling to what I know in life."  
  
"Cling to the masks you wore before? There is always a baseline, Ken, and it is our job to find it. It is always your choice, Ken; no one can take that from you. But choose wisely, and know that I am always there to help you." He took a deep breath, and then fell silent. The story seemed to have taken much out of him. Ken frowned thoughtfully, and then stepped away.  
  
"Thank you, Mark. I will think about this deeply." Mark smiled, his aged face wrinkliing.  
  
"It's all I could hope for."  
  
***  
  
"Hi, Oneechan; how are you?" Daisuke ducked under a bead curtain and approached the table in his sister's house around which she gave spiritual guidance.  
  
"Eh, could be better. I could be married to a rock star, live in a huge mansion, and have newspapers dying for my picture. But, you know, Yama hated me, so I found a life and a husband." Daisuke smiled, and sat next to her at the table.  
  
"How's Hiro?"   
  
"Well, he landed a government contract, so they'll do pretty well, and actually, he and the kids went out for dinner."  
  
"Why are you here?" Jun smiled enigmatically.  
  
"I knew you'd come over." Daisuke laughed, and reached across the table to where she had a plate of cookies.  
  
"And you made these in advance? Having a psychic sister rocks!" Jun smiled at him.  
  
"But you didn't come over here just to see me, did you?" Daisuke shook his head, and responded around a mouthful of chocolate chip.  
  
"I wanted to ask you some questions about Ken-chan."  
  
"I thought the two of you lost touch," she said. Daisuke shrugged.  
  
"We did, but I heard that he's alive and well...er, not exactly well, but more just alive. He and Miyako got a divorce, and I thought now might be a good time to re-extend the hand of friendship." Jun looked at him oddly.  
  
"There's something else, but I won't pry. And actually, I don't think he's actually living in Japan right now. A friend of his from...America-is sick." She raised her hands to her temple. "And...he's very vulnerable right now, Daisuke. Something about a mask he wore, he's lost a piece of himself." She dropped her hands, and sighed. "That's all." Daisuke nodded, and then reclined in the chair.  
  
"When will the others be back?"  
  
"Hiro and the kids will most likely be home in another 30 minutes or so. So, have you eaten?"  
  
"Yes, but I won't turn down food," Daisuke repsonded. She laughed, and walked to the kitchen to grab a few things to eat.  
  
***  
  
Ken stared at the pale pink wall in his guest room. What sort of mask was he wearing, and why did he wear it?  
  
'I thought I loved Miyako, but...I know myself, and if I really loved her that way, the divorce would have devastated me.' He crossed his arms, frowning in the darkness. 'This isn't something I can solve with my mind; it's a matter of my heart. But I was never good at emotions, Wormmon always helped me with emotions. I never would have-what? Something important I've forgotten. He helped me stop being the Kaiser, but there was something else...' Suddenly, he heard a cry of pain from downstairs, and shot up from the bed.  
  
"Mark!"  
  
***  
  
"An 80-year-old male, from downtown, suffering from cardiac arrest!" Ken tried to follow the gurney, but was blocked by a formiddable woman.  
  
"No one can go into the ER." He shook his head.  
  
"But I have to see him. He's dying!" The woman remained firm, though, so Ken sat, wringing his hands, on a waiting room chair.  
  
***  
  
The several hours passed slowly,  
'He's dying and I can't even see him!'  
Ken alternating between pacing, staring at the clock, and glancing from time to time at the nurse. Every once in a while, a doctor would come and talk to her, and she might call over a group of people. Ken sighed.  
  
"Is there a Mr. Ichijouji here?" Ken shot his hand up, standing up at the same time.  
  
"That's me!" he nearly shouted. The nurse pointed him to a young man in a doctor's uniform.  
  
"This is Doctor Marcowitz, Mr. Conforti's physician." Ken shook the man's hand.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, although the circumstances are..."  
  
"Right," the doctor said briskly. "You see, Ken, I won't mince words. Mark is dying, and he wants to see you before he goes. We've done all we can, and he's not in any pain, but, frankly, he's old, and his resolve is gone." He led Ken down the corridors, and stopped in front of Room 101, and opened the door. "Here, you can talk with him in here." Ken entered, and nearly gasped when he saw the frail body lying in the bed.  
  
"It's not really as bad as it seems," Mark gasped. Ken hurried over, and looked down on him.  
  
"Why did you want to see me, Mark?" The old man smiled, and waved a hand dismissively.  
  
"That can wait a minute. I always thought, you know, that my greatest fear was to die without first revealing my true face, to abandon my mask for a moment to another. I want you too see me, to hear me out, for just a moment, Ken. The woman I fell in love with, her name was Kelsey Jordan, a vision of lovlieness, and I pretended I had no interest. But when I realized that she had fallen for another man, I...I allowed myself through. I told her how I felt, but left her to her fate. We left it at that, we would see each other again someday, maybe on earth, maybe in Heaven, but then, we could forget the circle we caused. I've only worn one mask since then, the mask to hide my pain. She was my soulmate, Ken, and my heart longs for her every day. I...Ken, I don't want this to happen to you. Seize your true self before it's too late to do anything about it. You've been like a son to me, Ken, so make me proud." Mark sighed, and rested back on the pillow. "Remember that I love you, and that you made your mask, so only you can remove it. Now, Ken, if you would be so kind, get the doctor please? I want him to see this..." And then his voice faded away to nothing, and Ken bowed his head over the man. He turned and left the room, nodding to the doctor. Doctor Marcowitz hurried into the room, but Ken ignored him. He was done here. Mark wouldn't be there for him again. He was on his own, and had to find his own path, work on his own to discover who he was.  
  
***  
  
"Miyako, I know that you and Ken just weren't right for each other, but that couldn't have been the only reason you broke off the marriage. I seem to remember you feel the need to only do something if you have at least three good reasons to do so." Hikari sat on the couch, staring across it at the purple-haired woman.  
  
"You're right, Hikari. I...it wasn't just the fact that we didn't connect, the fact that I needed another life. You see, Ken's heart wasn't with me. He pretended he felt that way about me, and he may have believed it himself, but...Ken didn't love me. His heart has always lain with another, and I was too blind to see it." Hikari nodded, her face serious.  
  
"I don't think you were blind, Miyako; you just didn't want to see it. Maybe you were so much in love that you were ready to convince yourself that he loved you back." Miyako sighed, and rolled her head back onto the back of the couch.  
  
"No; he pretended. He *wanted* to love me. He at least wanted to *seem* to love me, and he might have succeeded. I always hoped that in time, we would grow to love each other, but...I didn't love him, Hikari. I...I made a mask to love him, because my heart lay elsewhere as well." She began twiddling her thumbs. Her next words were too quiet to hear. "Jorgess until two hearts are one."  
  
***  
  
Ken looked down at the letter that had been delivered to him.  
  
`Please report to the law offices of Gold, Goldman, and Silverman on the 12th of April, at 1 PM. At this time, the will of Mr. Mark Conforti will be read.`  
  
Ken glanced up at the entrance to the offices, and stepped forward. The door pushed in easily, and Ken found himself in a quiet waiting room. A secretary with graying hair and triangular spectacles glanced up at him.  
  
"Mr. Ichijouji?" Ken nodded. "The rest are in the office down the hall, last on the left." Ken barely noticed the diplomas and photographs hangin on the wall as he walked. This was really it. Mark was gone, and now his possessions were being given to those he cared about, including Ken. It didn't matter what he ended up with, as long as he could use it to remember the old man, his closest friend since  
'Since what? What am I forgetting? What's so important?'  
high school. He found the office, and opened the wooden door. Three lawyers and a young woman sat around a table, and glanced up at him. The first lawyer, a middle-aged blond, stood up.  
  
"Hello, I'm Gold, this is Goldman, and that, the old fogey, is Silverman. This young lady is Maria Chekov, the only other significant heir to the late Mr. Conforti." The woman nodded to him, and Ken sat down in a chair next to her. Goldman, a younger man with almost white-blond hair, began.  
  
"The will itself is short, but there are several letters to be distributed to his benefactors, and I'll hand those out after we're done. Now, 'I, Mark Conforti, of both sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath after my death, first, I leave my entire savings of $135,643 to the charitable organization most deemed suitable by my lawyers. To Jennifer Markana or her primary benefactor, I leave the message contained in my letter, and all of my possessions not given to others in this will. Finally, to Ichijouji Ken, I leave the center of my life, and the part of me by which he can best remember me, the building with the address 66 North Pearl Street, which I have bought and which belongs legally to me, and all objects contained within my workroom and showcase. To him I also leave words of wisdom contained in a letter I have written to him.' That's really about it, except for these letters." Silverman reached into his pocket and pulled out two envelopes, one which he handed to Ken, and the other to Maria.  
  
"We'll contact you later about the things bequeathed to you."  
  
***  
  
'Dear Ken,  
I know I told you many times while I was alive, but I will tell you again that you were like a son to me. I cherished you like family, and so, I was in pain because you were hiding behind a mask of paper and glue. I saw that you hid your true self, even keeping parts of yourself from me. I do not begrudge you for this; I instead see that there is a person to whom you can open up completely. Ken, I know that affairs of emotion are not your strength. However, I know that you can solve this for yourself. Ken, do as I did many years ago, and make yourself a mask. Look at what you make, and ask yourself what you need, what you are looking for, and whether you have the strength to reach for it. I'm going to leave you now, until we see each other again. Until that time, I leave you with my love.  
-Mark Conforti'  
  
***  
  
Ken picked up the shaping tool Mark must have used thousands of times before, and pressed it against the block of clay. A thin sliver peeled away, so Ken continued, reinforced by the minor success. And as he continued, a face began to emerge from the gray, mud-like block. His work continued for perhaps two or three hours, but when he finished, he didn't stop the process. Pressing plaster of paris onto the face, he created a mold. As he waited for the mold to harder, he wandered among the paints Mark had used in the shop, choosing colors at random. He then took the mold, and pressed pieces of paper maché into it. Then, he finally abandoned the work to get sleep. His dreams were full of demons and death, and when he awoke, all he could remember was the intense fear, and the loss of  
'Who is it? Who could I lose that would devastate me? What is the missing link?'  
someone close to him, feeling his heart shatter as the person died. When he awoke, he returned relentlessly to the task his mentor had left to him. He peeled the paper maché from the plaster of paris mold, and began to sand in smooth. Through all this time, he ignored the shape of the mask itself, only focusing on the actions, holding comfort in the movements of his hands. Then, he opened the paint he had chosen, and began to create the details of the face. A dash of red here, a pale olive here, a spark of lively brown...The work of painting was more involved, more intense, than the other steps, for it brought to life the secret yearnings in Ken's heart, brought the colorless face to its final state. Ken set it aside, letting it dry, and took the time to eat. An hour, two hours later, he returned, and looked, really *looked* at the mask. A strange, frog-like being, with bulging green eyes, red paint smeared across its forehead, and frightening, almost bloody spikes raising from the top, all topped with a toothy grin. The face held Ken's gaze for nearly an hour itself, him trying to fathom its secrets. Finally, he threw in onto the working bench, and sobbed.  
  
"I'll never find myself, never realize what I'm missing. I-" And then he stopped. "Get ahold of yourself, Ichijouji! I'm just asking for another slap on the face*. Mark knew what he was talking about, but his ideas are abstract. So all I have to do to solve this is to look at the mask from a different angle. Maybe I'll get some sleep, some food, and then look at this again. I'll find the meaning of my mask, make Mark proud of me."  
  
*** 


	3. Unmasked!

Masquerade  
  
***  
  
Part 2: Unmasked!  
  
***  
  
Hello. This is unfortunately being written during a period of time where I will not be able to send stories until at least Sunday, so I'm bored...sigh. However, I'm being threatened by a large, angry dragon to keep writing, so...here's part 2. Um, note: I am taking poetic liscence, namely, I'm pretending Ken's birthday is April 11, because I don't know if there actually is a date. If anyone knows if there is a canon birthday, please tell me what it is, because I like to stay somewhat canon (with the exception of the entire Miyaken fiasco). Arigatou! Also, the \ and / will indicate flashbacks.  
  
***  
  
Disclaimer: Digimon and affiliated characters do not belong to me; they are registered trademarks of Toei and Bandai. I am not making a cent off of this (and, if you use the adage that time is money, I'm losing a great deal to it), nor do I posses enough money to make lawsuits profitable. Anyway, this story also contains shenoun-ai, which basically means (in this beginning part of what I hope will become an epic, or at least marginally long) two men pining after each other. If you don't like, *deal*. I am not responsible for the actions of me or my muses (the former is an irate teenager, and the latter consists of a dragon) if someone who doesn't bother to read this extensive warning flames me (as indicated above, we've got plenty where that came from if you want to play hardball). Now, continue...  
  
***  
  
~Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said good-bye;  
Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try...~  
-"Think of Me," from "The Phantom of the Opera"  
  
Motimoya Daisuke was a celebrity. There was no arguing with that. He was one of the most well-known soccer players since Pelé. He could rarely enter any type of urban area without being mobbed by obsessive women. This tended to be a problem when he attempted to visit his friends, who in the 15 years since they had met, still lived in Odaiba.  
  
"Why can't the two of you live in the country?" he demanded, leaning against the door of the Takaishi-Hida apartment. Takeru smiled at him apologetically, and moved towards the kitchen area.  
  
"Well, Iori has to be near the courthouse a lot, and it's a long commute otherwise..." Daisuke rolled his eyes.  
  
"Frankly, spending time with the ones you love is overrated."  
  
"You're just jealous that you've been single ever since Hikari dumped you, oh, what is it, two years ago," Iori said, smirking, from the kitchen table. "Because, if you had anyone, like I have Take-chan, you'd do anything to spend more time with him or her." Daisuke growled at him, and sat down across from the brunette.  
  
"Don't you ever want to mess up your hair or something? You're too..."  
  
"Neat?" Takeru asked. "I think it's cute. Besides, he reminds me that sometimes you need to follow rules and look nice." He slung an arm around Iori's shoulder, who smiled up at him.  
  
"And Takeru shows me how to have fun sometimes," Iori added.  
  
"You know, I can't deal with you two. You're so...close, I feel left out." Iori managed a wicked grin, and stood up, resting an arm on Daisuke's shoulder.  
  
"Well, if you stick around till tomorrow, we can include you in tonight's activities." Daisuke's face took approximately threee seconds to become bright red.  
  
"That's *not* what I meant!" he stammered. Iori and Takeru laughed at the flushed brunette before calming down. "And besides, as far as I'm concerned, it might be better if I never have anyone. I wouldn't want someone I care about hounded by the media. I don't know how Yamato ever put up with that at all!" He slumped down into a chair. "I sometimes think that this isn't worth the trouble, but I wouldn't dare leave all this, because there's nothing else I'm good at." He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into Takeru's face.  
  
"I'm sure you'll find something, Dai-kun. I mean, you can't fail at *everything*."  
  
"Yeah, thanks," Daisuke muttered. Iori batted Takeru aside and sat next to Daisuke.  
  
"What he means is you've got talents that no one's ever seen, and all you have to do is look for them, and you can find what else you're good at. We have faith in you, Daisuke." Daisuke glanced up at the two of them, and smiled.  
  
"Thanks, you guys. You may be annoying sometimes, but sometimes you know just the right thing to say."  
  
***  
  
"Hello, Leah, where's my phone messages?" The woman looked up from painting her fingernails.  
  
"Mostly telemarketers, and, did you know that the pizza joint down the street has almost the exact same phone number as us?" Ken rolled his eyes, and walked past her, and pulled a lock of her dirty blond hair so she had to turn and look at him.  
  
"Were there any clients?" She nodded.  
  
"Yeah, there were a couple of crises, but they managed most of them, except the thing with Dr. Kinomoto. He called last night, something about his GE stocks..." Ken swore, and dashed into his office. Leah continued to file her nails, until she caught sight of the mask her boss had left on her desk. "Hm? A gift? Well, certainly not what I would expect, except..." She picked it up, and a piece of paper fluttered out. She picked it up, and read it silently. "Well, Ken-san, I might as well help you through this crisis." She flipped through her calendar, and smiled. "And just in time."  
  
***  
  
Daisuke stared at the city stretched out beneath his apartment. It wasn't a particularly large place, but it was home to him. He had a piece of paper resting on his lap, and was twiddling a pencil between his fingers. The regular tapping comforted him somewhat.  
  
'What sort of skills do I have? I don't want to spend the rest of my life playing soccer...it's a great game, but I don't want it to be my life.' As he thought, the tip of the pencil came to rest on the paper, and an image began to unconsciously come forward. Daisuke suddenly looked downward, and did a double-take. A smile curved his lips.  
  
"Well, *that's* an interesting turn of events."  
  
***  
  
Ken sat at his desk, and reached for a key he kept in his jacket. Unnlocking a drawer in the desk, he tried to put his mask and Mark's letter into it. Except that he didn't have the mask with him. He paled.  
  
"I can't have lost it! I have to use it to remember..." He slipped from his office, and glanced about the waiting area. "Leah, did I leave a mask of some type in here?" She shook her head.  
  
"No, Ken-san. I haven't seen anything like that. Are you sure you didn't leave it in the airport?"  
  
"No, I didn't. I had it with me here..." He threw several packs of paper aside, looking frantically for the mask. "I have to find it, Leah, so tell me if you see it." She nodded, and picked up the phone.  
  
"I'll just call the police and tell them all about it, ne?" He glared at her.  
  
"Why do I keep you here, Leah?" She smiled sweetly at him.  
  
"Because I'm beautiful, and intelligent, and despite my insubordination, I'm a good secretary? By the way, you can't have any plans next Wednesday. There's...things being planned." Ken smirked.  
  
"Is it just a coincidence that next Wednesday is my 27th birthday?" Leah smiled enigmatically.  
  
"Maybe. But don't make plans for the 11th, Ken-san."  
  
"Don't worry. I was planning on staying home and thinking." He walked back into his office, and when the door closed, Leah wrote a short message on the whiteboard she used to communicate with Ken sometimes. 'Keep the 11th free, or suffer the consequences, Ken-chan.' Yes, she hated lying to him, but she knew that it was better this way. She picked up a pile of magazines which had been delivered to her, and frowned at the cover of 'Life'.  
  
'International Soccer Star Abandons Sport' There was a montage of photos of Motimoya Daisuke, with a central image of him at a younger age, holding a victory sign up to the camera, a pair of goggles holding his mass of red hair at bay.  
  
***  
  
Daisuke looked carefully at the sketch he had made, and picked up a paintbrush. They were hardly quality supplies, but it was a start. The picture was in shades of gray and black, with only a blot of color. As he formed it, he frowned at the appearance of the painting. There was something about the picture he should know about...but he continued, adding shadows and shades where necessary, watching the image come to life. It was a frightening image, but his hand moved with a life of its own. Had he remembered conversations of decades past, he would have worried about the nature of such actions. But he wasn't much for overanalyzing things, much less looking a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
***  
  
"This is perfect," Leah said quietly, looking at the immaculately-wrapped box. She carefully scripted a short note, and taped it to the top. "There's no way he'll ever be mad at me for taking all this. Hell, I bet he doesn't even remember he had this stuff." She placed the box on her kitchen table, right next to the door, and headed for her bedroom. Yes, Ken would be very surprised tomorrow.  
  
***  
  
"Hi, um, Kari-chan, I've got a question for you," Daisuke mumbled.  
  
"Yeah?" Hikari twirled the phone cord around her finger.  
  
"You see, it's about why I quit soccer. I need you to come over and look at something."  
  
"Sure, but can I bring Miyako over?" Daisuke frowned at the question, and shrugged.  
  
"All right. Just come over and look at it."  
  
***  
  
"I'm so...surprised," Ken half-stammered. The entire office had turned out for the surprise party, and they were all listening to his speech. "I really didn't expect you all to go through this. I mean, I may be the boss, but it didn't mean you would all throw such a party for me." There was polite applause, and people continued talking. Leah sidled up to him and handed him a package wrapped in silver paper.  
  
"Hey, boss, I got you a little something, but wait until after the party to open it. It's sort of...personal." She smiled and vanished back into the crowd. Ken watched after her, and took the package to the office.  
  
"I'll look at this right after everyone leaves," he vowed. And then he returned to the music, talking, and laughing of the party.  
  
***  
  
Daisuke smiled at Hikari and Miyako.  
  
"All right, brace yourselves," he warned, and walked to a large white object in the center of the room. "You see, I decided that soccer wasn't for me, that I wanted to be remembered for something other than my sports skills, so..." He yanked at the object, and a white sheet was pulled from a painting. Hikari's mouth dropped open, and she stepped backwards.  
  
"My gods..." Miyako gripped the other woman's shoulders.  
  
"Daisuke, how can you paint it when you've never even seen it?" Hikari looked like she was going to faint.  
  
"Please...Dai-kun..." He hurriedly threw the sheet back over the painting.  
  
"I don't understand, though!" he protested. Hikari wandered over to a chair and sat down stiffly.  
  
"Daisuke, what you drew was the Dark Ocean, and from what I've come to understand, you've depicted the birth of the Kaiser. But I..." She stopped, her face betraying the pain the image had caused her.  
  
"Daisuke, that painting was too realistic; the Dark Ocean isn't exactly the sort of thing you want to be showing Kari." Daisuke looked at the covered painting, and then back at the two women.  
  
"Why would I paint Ken? And why when he became the Kaiser?" Miyako shrugged, but wrapped an arm around Hikari's shoulder. The brunette looked up at Daisuke, her face strained, but the sincerity etched in her voice.  
  
"You're very talented, Daisuke, but you need to be careful what you make. Images like these frighten people."  
  
***  
  
Ken looked at the box, and carefully peeled away the paper covering it. Then, he pulled up the lid. And gasped.  
  
"The little kleptomaniac," he hissed, pulling his mask from the box, seeing Mark's letter taped to the back. But, left in the box were several pieces of paper and a photo frame. The first piece of paper was an address, written in the neat, precise handwriting Leah used when she paid attention to her work. He set this aside. The next was an article from a recent issue of 'Life'. He set this aside, also, promising to read it later. He picked up the picture frame, and turned it around. The glass was cracked, but the picture beneath it was untouched. It was only half of a photograph, of an arm slung around the shoulders of a grinning teenager who held out his left hand in a victory sign, and the right protruding off the left side of the photo. Red-brown hair, warm, brown eyes, and goggles...Ken dropped the picture on his desk, memories flooding back, reminiscent of the slow gleaning of his memories from the time as the Kaiser-  
  
\"There!" Daisuke proclaimed, ripping the photo in half. He promptly handed one of the halves to Ken. "Now we each have a piece of the same picture, so we'll never forget the other. Ken-chan, can you promise me you won't forget me, even after you become rich and all that stuff?" Ken laughed at Daisuke's pleading look, and slipped the photograph into his wallet.  
  
"No, Dai-chan, I won't ever forget you. We'll be friends forever." He naturally didn't add the last part to his statement, that could have destroyed everything, made Daisuke retreat from him. The certainty of knowing that Daisuke didn't see him in the same way would have driven him-  
'I'm waiting, Ken-chan, you just have to reach out to me, and I'll catch you. I'll always be here, the only one you can always count on!'  
back to the Kaiser. But he kept the photograph, vowing to himself to never forget its value, to never forget the redhead whose image it kept./  
  
Ken shook off the memory, but finally understood. He glanced at his mask,the importance of which he could see now.  
  
"Spiky red hair, a blush, that combination of innocence and playfullness he always had on his face, and not frog eyes...goggles." He saw the frightening mask now as it should have been viewed, a skewing of the thing he most desired, the part of himself he had lost, the key to his identity. He looked at the article, seeing it was about Daisuke, and drank in everything it said, about Daisuke abandoning his soccer career, entering a new way of life, and how his career, illustrious and glorious, had brought him to fame quickly, and on and on for five and a half pages. But it was about Daisuke, so Ken tolerated the length. He finally put down the article, and turned his chair around to face the window, to stare at the glittering stars outside. He wanted to throw open the window (even though the window technically had no latch; it could be opened in a fire, but that usually shattered it) and shout out his joy to the world. He had found himself again, and finally remembered what he'd buried beneath a mask of marriage and work. "I am in love with Motimoya Daisuke, the most beautiful, courageous, thoughtful, and talented person I know," he announced to his office. "I am in love, and I couldn't care less if he loves me back, because I have found myself! I am Ichijouji Ken and I am in love!" He threw himself into a standing position, and snatched his briefcase, mask, and the address scribbled on the scrap of paper, all in a single swift movement, and strided purposefully through the door. As he literally bounced through the waiting room to the elevator, Leah watched him, amused. She turned to her husband, a wide man who also worked for Ichijouji Consulting.  
  
"I knew he'd love it, honey," she said smugly. "And you wanted to give him a new pager."  
  
***  
  
Daisuke stared at the painting, frowning. It was perfect, every detail attended to, every shadow, glimmer, and shine highlighted. It was surreal in its perfection, which made a doubt rise in his mind. Could this painting have been the work of another, or of the innate psychic talent Jun insisted everyone had? Was it possible that he didn't have any artistic talent whatsoever? He decided to test this, to draw something, and ignore any impulses he got. Choose something to draw, and draw it. The first thing that came to mind was Hikari and Miyako. He visualized how they had appeared when they saw the painting he had named "The Birth of Evil", and began to sketch. It wasn't something he concentrated on, but when he was done, it was still good. It didn't hold the precision of his earlier work, but it held traces of his own style, the nuances that showed Daisuke drew this. And, looking at the sketch, the way the two of them were standing close together brought back a painful memory. He placed the paper aside, and reached into his wallet. Flipping it open, he removed a well-worn photograph. Or, rather, half of one. Ken smiled at the photographer, a rather befuddled American tourist who had been in the right place at the right time, not a grin or anything, just a simple smile, of the type Daisuke had learned to cherish for its rarity and sincerity. He only smiled like that, with a hint of amusement touching his eyes, when he was truly happy. Daisuke allowed the photo to drop, and didn't try to stop the tear that followed it.  
  
"Ken-chan, why did you leave and forget me? Why couldn't you come back?"  
  
***  
  
"Ken-san? Ken-san?" Leah poked her head into the office, and saw nothing. "That's odd." Suddenly, the phone rang, and she answered it. "Hello, Ichijou-"  
  
"Hi, Leah!" Ken's voice was exuberant, full of life.  
  
"Mr. Ichijouji? Where are you and hwat-?"  
  
"I'm actually on the outskirts of Odaiba. There's some really nice apartments out here, including the home of former soccer champ Motimoya Daisuke." Leah couldn't help the smile that twitched across her face.  
  
"So you ditched work to track down the love of your life?" Ken laughed, and she felt a ripple down her spine. It was an exhilerating thing, to hear Ken Ichijouji laugh, really laugh.  
  
"Yes, Leah, and when I get back, remind me that I've got to think of a suitable punishment for you for raiding my office. I was thinking somewhere along the lines of a 5% raise."  
  
  
"I don't know, sir, it might be too lax a punishment for me."  
  
"Right. Anyway, Leah, cover for me?"  
  
"Sure, Ken. I'll just tell them you're taking a mental health day."  
  
"Tell them I'm going to Mars for all I care!" There was a final chuckle, and then the phone went dead. Leah placed the receiver back onto the cradle, and grinned. This whole situation just put a positive outlook on life, and she was enjoying it.  
  
***  
  
\"Ken? Is that really you? I never thought we'd see you again!" Ken glanced up at the sound of the slightly shrill voice. Of all the people in the small consulting firm to be chosen to help the new temp get her bearings, he was chosen. And of all the people to be that intern, it was Miyako. She had changed in four years, was prettier, still didn't compare to  
'Don't think about that! There's no hope in it, so don't think about it!'  
Daisuke, but she *was* pretty. He helped her around the office, and after work, they had an informal dinner together. Things just sort of escalated from there. Ken always suspected that he wasn't Miyako's first choice, but things went well between them. And when they agreed to be married, Ken fel that one little doubt go into hiding. That was when he really got his mask on, really got into the role. He was able to ask Daisuke to be his best man, able to ignore the fact that his heart wanted him to ditch the woman for his best friend, able to ignore the  
'He's not really jealous; he just probably always gets emotional at weddings.'  
pained looks he kept getting from Daisuke, the resigned sighs Miyako made, the twin gazes of Iori and Takeru piercing him, making him feel as if what he had done was wrong. That's why he moved, instead of to Odaiba or Tamachi, to Tokyo. It was just far enough away to pretend that they just lost touch, and...it made things easier. But his heart protested against this mask, and he supposed it must have showed, especially to a woman known for her dedication to emotion and passion. Which is really why the marriage didn't work; Ken was a logical person whose heart was devoted to another, and Miyako a woman who believed desparately in the need for true love in a relationship./  
  
Ken stared at the apartment building before him. He took a few deep breaths, and stepped forward.  
  
"You're just seeing an old friend, just an old friend." It was just Daisuke, only  
'The love of my life, my soul mate, the only person I've been able to open up to, the only person who's ever trusted me, cared for me, unconditionally, the only person in this world whose opinion I give a damn about.'  
Daisuke. Ken sighed, and stepped into the building. He glanced at the mailboxes, checked Daisuke's apartment number, and built up his courage one last time. The little logical part of him knew that if Daisuke wasn't there, he'd have to get intervention from the rest of the Digidestined just to try this again. He started up the stairs, and almost ran into a short, bespectacled woman.  
  
"Excuse me, but I don't believe you live here," she stated imperiously. "So I would advise you leave before I call the authorities." Ken stepped back from the woman's authoritative glare before responding.  
  
"I-was coming to see a friend of mine," he managed to stammer. Her face softened suddenly.  
  
"Ah, who is it? Are you one of Kikuko's friends? She keeps such odd company, and you look familiar..."  
  
"I actually was here to see Motimoya-kun." Her face split into a smile.  
  
"Ah, yes, you would. But I warn you, no fainting up there. The last time he had company, I had to get the smelling salts. You know, he fancies himself an artist. But I don't have the heart to throw him out; he pays the rent on time, and he's so cute!" The woman now led Ken up the stairs, and continued chatting about her various tenants (as Ken had deduced this woman must be the landlady). At the third floor, she led him into the hallway and pointed. "He's the last door on the right. And be careful in there; he's not got much art in there, but there's that freaky picture he insisted I see. 'Birth of Evil', he calls it. Anyway, maybe I'll see you again. Ja!" And the woman was gone. Ken carefully approached the door indicated to be Ken's, and knocked. There was a clatter, and a hoarse shout.  
  
"Just a minute! Ow! Damn paint; these pants will never be clean again." There was a rustling, as if he was throwing cloth over something, and then-the door opened. Motimoya Daisuke stared in shock at his visitor. "Ken?"  
  
***  
  
Yeah, I'm evil...I'm stopping this part here. I actually have only one more part to this story, but as I've said before, there will be sequels (and there will have to be). After I finish my plans for this part, any following stories can't really fit under the title of 'Masquerade', so they will have to be separate titles and whatnot, and I'm rambling, so I'll shut up now. Ja! 


	4. The Challenge

Masquerade  
  
***  
  
Part 3: The Challenge  
  
***  
  
Okay, I have some explanations I have to make here. This is the last part to 'Masquerade', but it isn't the end of the story. Think of this whole thing as a single chapter in a story. There will be loose ends here which may not be wrapped up for parts and parts. However, the 'sequel' to Masquerade I am working on will actually delve into the relationship. It has no current title, but it should be good. Until then, enjoy this.  
  
***  
  
~We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea...~  
-"Think of Me" from "The Phantom of the Opera"  
  
"Ken?" Daisuke was beautiful. That was all Ken could focus on, the fact that only change that the boy had gone through over fifteen years was to get more attractive. With all caution and reasoning thrown to the winds, Ken, abandoning years of careful shielding of his emotions, leaned forward and kissed the other man on the lips. When he broke off the kiss, he found himself just as shocked as the receiver of the affection.  
  
"God, Daisuke, I didn't-"  
  
"I think you should come in," Daisuke said grimly. "There's a lot you have to explain."  
  
***  
  
"Hello? Is your mother in?" Hikari looked down at the little girl on the front stoop. The girl nodded, and pointed towards the living room. "Thanks..."  
  
"Akira." Then the little girl was gone, and Hikari found her own way in. She pushed under a bead curtain, and nodded to Jun, who was sitting serenely on a blue, overstuffed couch.  
  
"Hikari-san," she said, nodding. "It's been quite a while. The last time I saw you, you were still dating my brother." Hikari forced a smile and sat down on an easy chair.  
  
"Listen, Jun-san, I came to ask you a little about your...gifts."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Well, is this sort of thing at all genetic?" Jun crossed her arms in front of her, frowning slightly.  
  
"I don't really know, but I would assume that close relatives would be more likely to share gifts. Why?"  
  
"Daisuke painted something, something he's never seen before, and with enough detail that it looked real. Not only that, it was an image from...a friend's past."  
  
"Honestly, Hikari, can't you just be honest? If it has something to do with the Digiworld, just say it." Hikari's mouth dropped open.  
  
"But how did you-"  
  
"I can see into other worlds, when I try, Hikari. And about Daisuke, he's always had the spirit of an artist, but I think he can also direct his mind to see the images of things beyond his time. It's not something to worry overly about unless it starts giving him nightmares. Until then, just let him work on his art. If he tries, he can be really good."  
  
***  
  
"Ken, why did you kiss me?" Daisuke asked calmly. Ken blushed, and looked away from Daisuke at the large, white shape in the living room. "Ken?"  
  
"Fine; do you really want to know why? I kissed you because-I love you. All right? Are you happy?" Daisuke smiled.  
  
"Yes." He placed his hands professionally on the table. "Ken, I-feel very strongly towards you as well. But-" Ken, who had appeared hopeful at the beginning of the sentence, panicked.  
  
"No! There can't be a but! I love you! You love me! It all works out!" Daisuke shook his head sadly.  
  
"No it doesn't, Ken. Do you know when I decided I was in love with you? When I was 14. And Ken, I didn't have the courage to tell you outright, so I gave you hints. They were subtle, but I thought even you could get them. I was more affectionate and physical around you, I showed you sides of myself no one else got to see, Ken, I spent every day in agony over the fact that you didn't return my feelings, that you were ignoring the expression of my emotions. And, so, I think you should experience a little of that. I'm glad to see you, Ken, and I hope that we can be friends. But I don't want us to be more if you can't prove to me how you feel. If you want to date me, I want to be courted. So, unless you have anything to say, the door is that way." Ken stood up unsteadily and walked to the door. Before he left, though, he felt a light kiss on his cheek. "I don't hate you, Ken-chan, I just want to be sure you feel the same way before I get committed to anything." As he left, Ken realized he was in a remarkably better mood than when he arrived.  
  
***  
  
**Private chat**  
~~Welcome to 'Digidestined'~~  
-Bravechibu42 has entered-  
-Holylight25 has entered-  
-Hopeful_Angel has entered-  
  
Bravechibu42: Well, you guys will never guess who came to my apartment today?  
Hopeful_Angel: A stalker?  
Holylight25: The curator of the Louvre?  
Bravechibu42: Not exactly, but Takeru's closer...  
Hopeful_Angel: Actually, it's Iori. Take-chan's out of town, and using his screen name reminds me of him.  
Holylight25: Awwwwww....kawaii!  
Hopeful_Angel: Now I'm blushing...  
Bravechibu42: So, about my surprise visitor-  
Holylight25: I bet Takeru showed up and asked you to make love to him...*snicker*  
Hopeful_Angel: That's not really you, Hika-kun, is it?  
Holylight25: Um...sort of. Miyako's reading over my shoulder.  
Bravechibu42: That's it! We keep getting off-topic! Ken turned up at my apartment today.  
Hopeful_Angel: And I bet he wanted to have hot, animal sex until the wee hours of the morning.  
  
  
Bravechibu42: Er...not quite.  
-Purelove2713 has signed on-  
Purelove2713: What do you mean, 'not quite?' What happened?  
Hopeful_Angel: Is that Miyako now?  
Purelove2713: The one and only. What exactly did he do?  
Bravechibu42: He kissed me.  
Holylight25: Is that why you divorced him, Miya-chan?  
Purelove2713: One of the major reasons, yes.  
-IoriT has signed on-  
IoriT: Has anyone seen Hopeful_Angel on, because whoever that is, it's not me!  
Hopeful_Angel: Um...hi, Take-chan. I just missed you.  
IoriT: Is this what you do when I'm gone? Masquerade as me? And you never told me what IoriT is supposed to mean.  
Hopeful_Angel: I'll tell you later. Anyway, Daisuke, is he still over there?  
IoriT: Who?  
Bravechibu42: No; he said he loved me, and I said I loved him too, but...  
Purelove2713: BUT?! I divorced him because I thought he'd be happier with you! There can't be a but!  
Holylight25: Calm down, Miya-chan.  
Bravechibu42: Just listen to what I have to say. I told him how I've been in love with him since...I think 9th grade, and how I tried to show that to him.  
Holylight25: Yeah, you were all over him that summer. I was so surprised you weren't dating by September.  
Hopeful_Angel: What are you talking about? He was just being Daisuke-  
Purelove2713: I didn't notice anything out of the usual.  
Holylight25: Yeah, well, you're not Takeru or me. We can see these things. I'm surprised you didn't notice it, Miyako, what with the Digimental of Love and everything.  
Purelove2713: Yeah, well, no one's perfect, least of all me.  
Bravechibu42: Anyway, I told him that if he was really in love with me, he'd have to show it to me; court me, if you will. I don't want to end up in another relationship where I'm the only one who feels anything.  
Holylight25: That is so romantic! You want him to prove his love? Iori, you can learn a thing or two from Daisuke.  
IoriT: WHO ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT?  
Hopeful_Angel: Ken. And why aren't you telling this to Takeru?  
Holylight25: Because Takeru's perfect, and you're just lucky to have him.  
Purelove2713: My god. I've never heard anyone laugh that hard. Ouch! She fell out of her chair. Now look what you've made her do, Mr. Bi-Polar. And by the way, nice job, Daisuke. He's not the type to let you go that easily, so rest assured you're going to be assaulted with affection. I need to go make sure Hikari's not hurt.  
-Purelove2713 has signed off-  
-Holylight25 has signed off-  
  
***  
  
"Hello, Ken-san. How'd the visit go?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it. But Leah, I want you to get a dozen...African violets sent to Motimoya Daisuke. But don't call until I give you the note I want to go with it." He disappeared into his office, and Leah just stared after him.  
  
"So, did it go well? Or badly? Apparently, both." She jotted the note onto her Post-it's, and then returned to her work.  
  
***  
  
'I've worn a mask for so long, that I've forgotten who I really am. I hid myself behind my work, others, and I hid my emotions so I wouldn't get hurt. I'm very good at hurting myself. But, Daisuke, when I remembered your smile, your simple pleasure in just living, I saw a glimpse of me again. You broke my mask, Daisuke, you reminded me of the past I needed, the emotions I buried. I love you, Daisuke, I have always loved you. I only hope that I can make you see that. Consider this mask as a gift to you, and these flowers as a mark of my devotion. Until we meet again-' The note ended with a flourishing signature, elegant yet free. Daisuke placed the violets in a vase, filled with water, and smiled.  
  
"An admirable start, Ken-chan." A chase of sorts, or perhaps a dance, had begun, and if they knew their parts well, it would end well for both of them.  
  
*** 


End file.
